


Travis' Type

by The_Busy_Beee



Series: Travis' Angels [1]
Category: DOUBLE DECKER! ダグ&キリル | Double Decker! Doug & Kirill (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Dirty Talk, Embarrassment, Exhibitionism, Friends With Benefits, Hair-pulling, Intercrural Sex, Loud Sex, M/M, Office Sex, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-04 00:17:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17887895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Busy_Beee/pseuds/The_Busy_Beee
Summary: "You were Travis' type."Kirill offers to do "anything" for this job, and he really meant it.Or;Secret (?) office sex.





	Travis' Type

**Author's Note:**

> I know everyone was expecting Valery/Derick SickFic, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone, so I cranked it out in under an hour, and lemme just say: GodDAMN Travis. 
> 
> I enjoyed this way too much.  
> It's so filthy.
> 
> Somebody make me stop.

It's not that Kirill's never given a blow job before, because the police academy kept men and women in separate dormitories. Anyone caught in an indecent manner with a recruit the opposite sex was in serious trouble.

 

So the male recruits would frequently “help one another out”. 

 

Strictly orgasms, of course. It wasn't gay or anything; nobody kissed. At least, according to everyone else. Kirill never saw the problem with kissing, and he'd known he was gay since he was seven, so the “it's not gay” line always made him laugh.

 

It was  _ very _ gay.

 

The point is, this is nowhere near Kirill's first blow job, however it is his first time sucking someone off while under a desk- while his fellow teammates are on the other side of the door. Kirill is nervous; any one of the other Seven-O agents could simply walk in at any time. They had a clear view of Travis’ office, they would have known if he had left already, but if they were to walk in and not find Kirill at first glance?

 

Kirill swallows around Travis’ length, head bobbing just a bit faster as he twists his wrist, flicking his hand up and down the part of the shaft his mouth can't reach. Travis lets out a small groan and tightens his fingers in Kirill's hair, not pushing, simply holding tight. 

 

Kirill's hard in his jeans, and while part of him feels ashamed of himself for sucking his boss off, he can't help but grind the heel of his palm into the bulge, a whimper bubbling out around the cock in his mouth. Travis hisses and throws his head back against the, chair, expression one of pure bliss.

 

“Shit- that slutty little mouth always knows just what to do, huh?” He whispers, voice dark. Kirill shudders and dives deeper, cock brushing the back of his throat. He breathes through his nose, carefully suppressing his gag reflex as he swallows around the flared head.

 

Kirill is the one who started it, honestly. He didn't mean to, but it happened. When Travis had told him he was on a probationary period, Kirill promised to do absolutely anything to keep the job. But, come the end of his probationary period, he was terrified he was going to be let go. He hadn't produced good results; he was obviously nothing more than a nuisance. So when Travis called him in to his office, Kirill did what he knows best.

 

He sucked Travis’ soul out of his dick. Kirill was glad everyone else in the office had gone home for the day, because Travis was  _ noisy _ . Come to find out, Kirill's job hadn't been in danger. Travis had called him in to give him his uniform and congratulate him, but the deed was already done. It wasn't as if Kirill hadn't enjoyed it, so he tentatively offered again on another day that he was somehow the last person in the office.

 

And Travis wasn't about to turn down a mouth like that.

 

Travis’ shoe brushing his hand off his denim covered cock has Kirill coming back to the present. He glances up at Travis and finds the man's dark eyes watching him, shining with mischief. The sole of those shiny black shoes presses down against the bulge in Kirill's pants, and he can't stop the whine he lets out as his hips jerk forward.

 

“So naughty,” Travis murmurs, “humping my shoe like the bitch you are.”

 

And Travis’ dirty mouth is completely unexpected, but fuck if it doesn't have Kirill shuddering, hips twitching into the contact as Travis grinds his foot on Kirill's straining erection. He's drooling all over now, cheeks bright red as he bobs on Travis’ cock, rhythm falling away into desperation. Travis clicks his tongue as he pulls the younger man away by his hair.

 

“You're making such a mess down there. If you keep it up, it'll be obvious that you've been slobbering all over my cock.” Travis chastises. And Kirill's not sure if it's the sudden increase of pressure on his weaping cock, or the idea of everyone knowing about Kirill sucking his boss off but a groan spills out of his slick, puffy lips and Travis grins.

 

“Come up here.” He orders, moving his chair back to give Kirill more room. Travis stands up, cock still rock hard and red tipped. The younger man whimpers as the hand leaves his hair and the pressure on his bulge disappears, but he dutifully crawls out from under the desk on shaky legs.

 

Once his head is clear of the desk, Travis is grabbing him by the arms and tugging him onto his feet. Kirill stands, wobbly, and blinks at the older man in surprise. This is new. Usually, he sucks Travis off before rushing to the bathroom to finish himself off before catching the bus home. But honestly, everything about this encounter is new. They've never done this during work hours, for one, and Travis has never kissed him like he is now.

 

The feeling of a moustache is new to Kirill, but not unwelcome, and he quickly realizes that Travis may not be as unskilled as the women like to joke about. His tongue is mapping out Kirill's mouth, gliding and brushing against sensitive spots Kirill didn't even know existed, and the younger man can only grip onto Travis’ shoulders as he's swept away in the kiss.

 

Travis eventually pulls back, breathing heavily while Kirill is completely blissed out and breathless. He knows his cheeks must be scarlet colored, but Travis doesn't seem to care as he swiftly undoes the catch of Kirill's pants before turning him around to face the desk and dragging the denim down his hips. 

 

Kirill stumbles forward, hands quickly coming up to brace on the desk as his legs are kicked apart. His head snaps up when he feels Travis’ cock brush over his hole, anxiety taking the place of arousal.

 

“Wait- I'm not-!”

 

“Calm down,” Travis’ hand comes up to press Kirill's chest down to the desk. Kirill goes, still nervous. “I don't plan to penetrate you… not today.” He adds on, voice low. Travis’ hands are soft, fingers long and talented. He runs soothing hands under Kirill's shirt, up to his shoulders as he humps between the cheeks of Kirill's ass. “There we go.” Travis murmurs as he feels the tension fall from Kirill's shoulders.

 

This has to be the single most filthy thing Kirill has done in his life, and he's living for it. His fingers are gripping the edge of the desk, holding on tight as Travis’ thrusting picks up speed. The older man is tugging him back into each thrust with the grip on his shoulders, and Kirill thinks his lip might be bleeding with how hard he's biting it, but it feels so good; the friction against his hole, the way his cock bobs with each thrust. He's dripping now, he can feel it, and though he wants to beg Travis to touch him, he can't let go of his lip now- who knows what kind of filth will pour out.

 

But Travis seems to understand when Kirill pushes back into each thrust, because he adjusts his stance, cock sliding between Kirill's thighs, and presses Kirill's legs tighter together. The first thrust has Travis’ cock butting right behind his sack, nailing his sensitive taint, and Kirill's lips part on a high pitched wail. Travis’ right hand quickly shoots up to cover his mouth, and Kirill is grateful, because he can't hold back now as Travis picks up speed again. 

 

The body blanketing his laughs, hot breath ghosting over Kirill's ear. Travis’ lips move over his neck and exposed shoulder, pressing nothing more than butterfly kisses into the heated skin, a stark contrast to where his hips are pistoning against Kirill's roughly, his left hand tight on the slim hips in front of him.

 

“You're so noisy. I told you you'd have to keep it down, but you must want everyone to know, right?” Travis pants against his neck, and Kirill groans against the palm covering his mouth. “You want them all to know how filthy you are, don't you? How much you love sliding to your knees, wrapping those pretty little lips around someone's cock; how much you love being used and filled.” 

 

Kirill's head is spinning from the heat between their fully clothed bodies and the slight oxygen deprivation and the words being groaned into his skin- his body is taught, like a rubber band ready to snap, and he just needs-

 

Travis knows what he needs, and the long fingers of his left hand drop down to grip the weeping cock, thumb rolling over the head and down the vein along the side-

 

And Kirill is arching off the desk, back bowing into a perfect curve as he comes, stripes of pearly white fluid striping the floor. Travis’ have holds tight, keeping the scream Kirill lets out to a minimum, and when Kirill drops back to the desk, boneless and panting, Travis releases his mouth to bring both hands back to their rightful place on Kirill's hips as he chases his own release.

 

He's close, so close, hips jerking unevenly against Kirill's sensitive sack and thighs, and Kirill is squirming, whimpering in overstimulation, until Travis hisses against his neck and Kirill feels the warm wetness trailing down his inner thighs. Travis stays there a moment, catching his breath as Kirill tries to remember how thought works. Eventually, the older man pulls away and, after finding a tissue to clean himself off with, tucks his softening cock away and straightens his clothing. 

 

Kirill pushes off the desk, arms and legs shaky as he fixes his clothes and tries to ignore the slowly cooling mess inside his pants. He'll clean himself better in the employee locker room, but he's already spent too much time here. He glances back at Travis, who is already scribbling away at a work document and frowns.

 

There's not a single hair out of place on the other man, and he doesn't even look flushed after all that, though Kirill is sure his own hair and clothes are an absolute  _ wreck _ . He takes Travis’ silence for the dismissal that it is and carefully makes his way to the door.

 

When he steps out of the office, everyone is very pointedly not looking at him, and Kirill's cheeks flame as he moves straight for the locker room because  _ they all know _ . There's no possible way they don't, and now Kirill wants a hole to simply open up an swallow him. 

 

As he wipes the drying come off his thighs, he wonders if there's a chance no one will bring it up. Maybe, it'll be too embarrassing too even think about, and no one will want to go near the subject. At least, that's what Kirill hopes.


End file.
